


Women of Barrayar (not the Escobarran book)

by ana



Series: Women of Barrayar [1]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Barrayar, Gender Related, Historians, Memorials, Women Being Awesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ana/pseuds/ana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic may not interest anyone but me, but I had to write it because it made sense to me that they existed. And it was starting to bother me...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Women of Barrayar (not the Escobarran book)

_Today, it has to be today._

Blue sky and harsh sun stared down at the throng of people standing in the square; all faces gazing intently towards the canopied platform.  The audience were quiet, even the odd cry of a child didn’t disturb the Emperor giving his annual stirring speech.  

This being another war dead memorial, the Great Square was filled with families and dress green uniforms.  The platform, as well as seating the Empress, was full of dress greens too, from the Emperor to the many veterans with medals; medals which kept catching the sunlight and irritating her vision as she threaded her way through the centre of the crowd.   

Her eye also caught the hover-vids circling the Emperor; she’d seen those increase since his wedding, but this was the first time she’d seen hover-vids at a Memorial.  She thought it would be great if the feed was going to go out live across Barrayar, and _as is_ to the Embassies across the Galaxy, but this being paranoid Barrayar she knew it would be cleaned up and edited first. _I will be cleaned up and edited_.  But that didn’t matter, there were enough people here, and the time to do this was now.

She reached her destination at the Stone Tree, where the crowd was thinner and the view unclear.  She stood on tiptoe a few times until a tall, long, blonde man closest to her got the hint and moved, giving her a pitying look as he did so; whether the look was because of her short stature or unhealthy appearance was anyone’s guess.  She could imagine how ill she must look to him, and she supposed the thin grey dress she was wearing didn’t do much to disguise her now bony frame, but the dress was the only clothing she had that was kind to her sore, bruised skin. 

The man indicated that she should stand on the plinth he had been stood next to, which had been her aim all along.  The plinth itself carried a massive heavy stone tree sculpture (a gift from some dignitary on Earth) and she did as the man suggested, but she didn’t stop at the plinth; clutching her dress, she climbed higher to the flat part in the middle of the sculpture, which had some pointless stone birds on it.  

Looking out from her perch, high above the crowd she ran a hand through her sparse brown hair, forgetting again that her long hair was gone.  She noted how the people in the crowd, especially the children, had now started to stare and point at her.  And no doubt many of the Emperor’s security had their eyes on her too, but it wasn’t that unusual as there were other people stood on the statues, but probably not as high as her.  She kept her hands visible and turned back to look in the direction of the platform.  The Emperor had finally come to the end of his speech. 

 _It’s now or never._ She took a breath, swiftly pressed the communication device on the neck of her dress and said, “What about the women, sire?”

She saw him indicate to someone, it was subtle but she’d seen it.  And she guessed he’d just stopped her from being shot/stunned off the sculpture.  She wasn’t scared; she wasn’t sure what she felt.

Everyone looked at her, including - she could feel - the many, many weapons.  So she made sure her weaponless hands stayed visible (besides gripping the ledge of her perch to steady her).  This way, she hoped, they would let her stay until she was finished. 

She anchored herself by staring into the Emperor’s eyes, only him and his sober looking face.  She repeated her question; her communication device amplifying her voice clearly over the square.

“Did you not like my speech?” he asked, deftly not answering her question, his voice carrying across to her easily, not as before in that grandiose serious manner, but soft, conversational as if he talked to women in stone trees every day.

“Your speech was what I expected,” she said, glad her voice was clearer than she felt.  The wind tugged at her hair suddenly, and a waft of fresh spiced bread distracted her for a moment.  She licked her lips.  “Another speech commemorating the war dead; as they should be commemorated, I have no problem with that, but there was no mention of any women; just as there are no statues of them.  And I don’t count the ones with the water shooting out of their breasts,” a few shocked gasps and laughter from the crowd. “You have statues commemorating various men everywhere, _but none of the women_.  Why?”

All eyes turned back to the Emperor, whose expression had altered with a small smile.  They could almost be sat across from each other at a table.  Almost.  “Which women are you are referring to, in particular?”

Hmm. So he wasn’t going to put the blame on anyone else?  Her admiration for him notched up higher.  But perhaps he thought he was being clever, turning it back on her like this, but this was the question she’d hoped he’d asked before they shot her.  _This_ she’d prepared for and this was more important that any presentation she’d done on her useless degree.

“I can give you a few of the many.” And she began…

“Lady Olga Vorbrun, who during the occupation provided valuable intelligence on Cetagandan strategy and weaponry using her own unique methods of surveillance.  When she knew her time was up, she captured and interrogated several ghem officers in her basement, including a ghem-General; I believe her interrogation tool was a gimlet.”  She decided to leave at that as there were children present.  “She stayed alive long enough to pass the information on before they caught up with her and killed her, slowly.  There were also the Vorne sisters who played a key role in the underground movement of weapons and people.  There was Sarah Knezevic, Lady Kristine, and many more, but I don’t want to get distracted with the long list of those involved in the wars.  What about Lady Katya Vormecek  and Thalia Tsakiris who set up one of the first multidisciplinary health clinics in the Caravanserai?  They campaigned and fought for better work and housing conditions at a time when most people wanted to level the Caravanserai and pretend it didn’t exist.  And this was while Lady Vormecek was trying to improve the social conditions in her own district, regardless of the disapproval from some Imperial quarters.”

She could feel it. The weight of the attentive silence, it spurred her on, but she still kept her eyes on the Emperor to steady her.  He looked thoughtful, not angry, but then she couldn’t recall him having many expressions in the few times she’d seen him in person.  _He may not like this next bit._

“Poverty still exists in the city today, sire, for all that you can think you can pretty up the areas and send people to the edges, where do you think they’re going to go?  Do you think they’re going to drop off the end of the planet?” Before he could defend himself with a nice speech, she carried on reeling off the names of the women – philanthropists, humanitarians, visionaries, campaigners, some who had been regarded as outcasts or mad at the time - 

_OH FUCK!_

She could feel the painkillers were already wearing off.  _I can feel my heart beat in my legs._   She took another deep breath.  _Must focus._

“And for some of these great women, it’s their _husbands_ who were given sole credit for all their great work.” There was a sudden knowing murmur from the crowd.

“This has been rectified in some quarters,” she continued.  _I don’t think it was a good idea to have that wine with the pills, but it had been such a tiny amount_ … “Professora Vorthys and Professora Mantinieks have done some outstanding work in this area, but it’s not enough,” she said bluntly, wondering how her old lecturers would feel about that comment.  “Some of these wonderful women may now be in the history books, I give you that, but who reads those except Academics and those that already have an interest?  Most people don’t know anything about them!”

She looked down now at the swarm of faces and could feel that this was the case _.  God, I’m really high up.  But I’ve been higher._   Memories of what had happened threatened her; she slammed the door on them and gripped her hands on the gritty stone.  _Today is not the day to deal with that._

She turned back to the Emperor and hooked her eyes back on him again, clearing her throat; her lips parch dry and a sudden nausea threatening to swallow her. 

“Galactics definitely don’t know Barrayar.  Many think the women of Barrayar sat on their asses and stared into space during the occupation – some think it’s what they do now.  It used to piss me off when people made those assumptions, but then I realised why – other places celebrate their great citizens, Barrayar does not.  In the Museums here, you have barely anything about your women – historical or contemporary.  Barrayar needs something that showcases its women, not just in books.  You need it celebrated where people can see it day to day, but you don’t.  No statues, no ceremonies, no day of remembrance for any of them,” she shook her head, not a good thing to do with her aching head and nausea.  “It’s shameful!” she glared in the direction of the Emperor, gripping the ledge harder, her vision was starting to slur or was it her words?  She concentrated and bit the words out hard, “And anyone wanting to do anything like – like - getting approval for exhibition space at Vorhartung Castle Museum - has had their applications decay and rot in _your_ ministerial committees of half-wits and imbeciles.”

A collective intake of breath and laughter.  She suddenly wondered what Laisa thought of this or if she recognised her.  _I won’t look at her._   _My head is splitting. Did I ramble? I'm rambling - did I swear?_ She had a feeling she may have sworn and _Oh, God_ , her head started to cave, and the pain!

The Emperor was given her an odd look, and there were now three of him as they said softly, “Perhaps you should come down from there so we can -“

“And the books which are popular across the galaxy are tripe like that _Women of Barrayar_ book!”

 _I have so much more to say! Must focus on the six Emperors_ , _where have they all come from?_   “Have you read it?  Good God!  What a piece of fiction!! And the Escobarran author’s writing a second edition, you know.  The Imperial Library has given her access to the archive, so she can correct her mistake, which was the whole damn book!  You should have seen what she said about –“

Someone screamed - pain shot through her eyes, head - then there was nothing. Again. 

***

“They shot her!”

“They killed her for confronting the Emperor!”

“No. She hasn’t been shot, and she’s not dead.” The very tall, dark haired Lieutenant spoke firm and clear into the girl’s communication device, leaving it activated so everyone in the crowd could hear him.  “Someone get a medic!  She hasn’t been shot,” he repeated calmly, “she’s fainted and needs help. Please move, so I can lie her down. Thank you.”

“Look, she’s got a medbraclet,” an Ensign remarked with a snort, pointing at the girl’s arm, “that explains it!” And then staggered back in surprise at the tangible hostility from the women around him.

_Idiot. But then he probably wasn’t raised among grandmothers, sisters, an aunt…_

“That explains why she fainted, nothing else,” the Lieutenant said, as he laid the girl down gently on his tunic, continuing to keep her communication device activated. “I thought she was very brave to make her point to the Emperor in this way.  It’s a shame it took so much out of her.”

There were many nods and he inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, feeling the hostility begin to ebb, and now flow into concern and admiration for the girl.

“She’s very pale,” he added, he didn’t have to overdo that concern.  If she died, they would have a riot on their hands.

And then to everyone’s relief, a medic arrived, who showed the girl was alive by having her open her eyes, although they quickly closed again with a moan before she was swiftly taken away to hospital

***

When Lieutenant Jon Vorkeres’s CO had asked him if he really believed what he’d said, after commending him for the way he had not only caught the girl when she fell, but of also soothing the sudden hostile crowd, Vorkeres was as always, honest:

“Brave?  Yes, sir. _And_ a prize idiot for risking her life.  There were better ways she could have presented herself to the Emperor, but I knew better than to say it out loud to _that_ crowd, sir.”

“Quite,” was his CO’s only amused response, but when he personally made his report to Allegre, his humour evaporated on the discovery of who the tree girl (as she’d been named) was, and of how she’d ended up in that state.

“She was one of us, sir?”

“She still is,” Allegre corrected.  But was she?  Would she now go back to just taking jobs for Lady Alys after what had happened?  It was too early to tell.  “She was in hospital for three months; her last mission ended…badly.  The day of the memorial was her first day out of hospital.”

“Did she say why she did it?”

Allegre recalled Lady Alys repeating the girl’s words verbatim with a wry smile. He decided to leave out the colourful expletives.  “Yes, she heard Maria Rocco – the Escobarran author – was on Barrayar and she wanted to say something before the woman’s second edition came out.”

“And that’s the only reason?”

“No, but it’s the only one she’s willing to give.”

***

The public never discovered who that tree girl was, but in the end, did it matter?  She hadn’t given the most eloquent of speeches, it ended abruptly, and it’s not as if she’d been the only woman to voice those grievances, but it was the manner and timing of it that made an impact in all quarters.  She had hit a collective nerve.

The Women’s Guild ‘invited’ the Escobarran author to a meeting at Estelle’s to discuss extracts from her new publication.  The author knew better than to decline, especially when Lady Alys Vorpatril and several eminent Professoras were going to be in attendance. 

Gregor gave his staff short notice and a deadline of yesterday to hunt out all ‘applications’ with a women slant, since it was hard to narrow down what the nature was of all those applications, or which specific department of ‘half-wits and imbeciles’ the woman had been referring to, although he had a fairly good idea.  With the help and vocal advice from the women of his acquaintance, Gregor made a more visible Imperial start on addressing the tree girl’s grievances.  He didn’t gripe or point to what he and other districts had already done, and were doing, because it clearly wasn’t enough.

Laisa, who at one time had known the girl personally, had been proud of her old friend and continued to request to see her - and continued to have those requests refused.  It didn’t stop her from trying, and she would never use her Imperial power to demand it.  Besides, Laisa found hope in the last message she received:  _One day, I’ll explain._ Laisa replied: _And I’ll be here to listen._

***

For the tourists who had been present at that memorial, the tree girl was one of the highlights to their trip. It led to one group of tourists on a desperate hunt - for the statue of the woman with water shooting out of her breasts. 

Well, you can’t have everything...

**Author's Note:**

> Humble thanks to Gwynne (go to sleep! :)) and K (I tweaked Tatya's kid brother) for beta reading.
> 
> There is another fic related to this but it's still cooking.
> 
> This was written under the influence of not trying to write fic, and I've since discovered you can check out but you can never leave...:)


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